


Happy Endings

by dorrinverrakai1



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies)
Genre: F/M, peggy is a stripper, steve is undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-28 00:25:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10058930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorrinverrakai1/pseuds/dorrinverrakai1
Summary: Steve's undercover meeting with a new contact gets very interesting.





	

Suffocating. Steve unbuttons the top button of his shirt. The lights are flashing and the bass thrums, drowning out nearly any other sound. Smoke is heavy in the air. And it’s hot. Too hot. Steve unbuttons his cuffs and rolls his sleeves up his forearms. He’s completely sure he’s already sweated through two layers of deodorant and he’s absolutely positive everyone nearby can smell his nervousness.

This is beyond ridiculous. Steve adjusts his sleeves again and pulls at his collar. He approaches the bar and orders a beer. He’s sure every person in the establishment knows he doesn’t belong here. Deception and artifice have never been his strong points. 

He makes his way to the stage, taking one of the last stools open. The place is packed. Below the thrum of the base, there’s the buzzing din of human voices all mixed together. Steve doesn’t know how he’s supposed to hear anyone let alone find someone in the noise and smoke.

“Dude, get the stick out of your ass and act natural. I can’t even see you but I know when you breathe like that you’re acting weird. Less robot, more natural. Sip your beer. You’re on assignment.” Nat’s voice startles Steve, chiming into his left ear accompanied by a loud crack of static. 

Steve knocks his drink over and it spills down his chest and on his crotch, ice cold and refreshing in the wrong places. Panic sets in and Steve’s vision gets blurry around the edges as he fumbles to right his drink. Another voice sounds in Steve’s left ear “Don’t worry sugar. Happens all the time to the best of us.”

It’s a waitress. She sets her empty tray down and produces a cloth. She quickly mops up the spill. She blots Steve’s chest and then swiftly moves lower. Steve snatches the cloth and handles the rest of the clean up himself. He hands her cloth back to her and thanks her then turns staring stiffly straight ahead waiting for the void to consume him. The waitress returns with another drink but Steve hardly notices.

The house lights dim and the stage lights flash on. There’s a palpable feeling of anticipation thrumming through the air. The sudden absence of noise sounds louder than the cacophony that preceded it. He sips his new beer and carefully sets it back down on the table in front of him.

Suddenly, three spotlights turn on at the same time the bass starts again. The lights focus on a statuesque woman strutting to the center of the T shaped stage and the triangular arrangement of poles situated there. The bass becomes impossibly louder as she lithely works her way through her routine. Her strength and beauty as well as impossible flexibility on display as she works up and down and around the bars.

She works the stage too, up and down the right and center of the T. She works her way down the left side. By some sort of cosmic accident, Steve realizes that the black abyss of despair isn’t in front of him, the pole on the left hand side of the stage is. The woman continues her routine, gyrating and undulating to the bass. She occasionally squats down inviting him to shower her with money. She works the pole in front of Steve. He may not be in front of the abyss but he’s sure he’s having an out of body experience. She makes eye contact with him as she holds a pose on the bar and smirks in amusement.

The show is over all too soon and the woman struts off the stage. Steve continues to sit there clutching his half drunk beer. He’s sure his face and ears are bright red from embarrassment and excitement. Another woman takes the stage but she doesn’t hold Steve’s attention like the first one. The waitresses continue to circle around refreshing drinks and taking in new orders.

He sips his drink slowly, attempting to regain focus. He needs to remember his purpose here. He doesn’t know who his contact is. His team received an anonymous tip. It’s actually supposed to be Bucky in here tonight but the idiot sprained his ankle at the gym the night before. Meeting contacts is definitely not Steve’s strong suit.

He’s lost in thought when once again a voice sounds in his left ear. “Angie not doing anything for you, darling?”

Steve turns in shock, having not heard anyone approach him. It’s the dancer, the first one. Steve manages to not dump his drink again but clutches it desperately. “Huh” is about all Steve can manage.

The woman shifts closer to him, her right breast pressing against his left arm, impossible soft and firm. White noise fills Steve’s mind. She’s as scantily clad as she was on the stage but her impossibly red lips hold his attention, second only to her dark eyes. She brings her hand up, running her fingernail softly around the shell of his left ear. Steve’s face is hot and flushed and he knows his ears must be flaming a horrible lobster red.

“A more private show may be more to your liking?” She asks as she gazes at him, amusement shining in her dark eyes and a sardonic smirk twisting her lips. “Something stronger than beer for you as well? A whiskey perhaps? Neat? The way I like it.”

Her hand strokes across his chest and Steve is ready to do anything she asks. “How’s the weather in Brooklyn this time of year?” she asks.

Through his haze of confusion and desire, Steve recognizes the question. He prepped for this. “It’s sunny but I always carry an umbrella in case of rain” He answers, looking into her eyes.

She smiles at him again and turns looking over her shoulder “Come along then darling. I have something for you.”

Steve follows blindly behind her in a fog. He’ll follow her anywhere.

Anywhere turns out to be a dim hallway with several doors on either side. Steve follows the woman to the very last door on the right. She precedes him into the room and shuts the door after him. Steve isn’t sure what to do or expect, this experience is already far outside his knowledge of how the world functions.

There’s a chair in the middle of the dimly lit room that faces a mirror. The woman stands behind it and gestures for him to take a seat, which he does. She then goes back to the door and fiddles with something on the wall. She looks at him over her shoulder and smirks. Embarrassed at being caught watching her, Steve turns his head and looks down at his shoes.

Music fills the small room as the woman walks back to Steve, standing directly before him. She moves situating herself, one knee on either side of Steve’s legs, hovering over his lap. She runs her fingers up his neck and tilts his chin up. She caresses both of his ears. “It’s alright darling, you can watch.”

Steve realizes he’s still holding his beer and sets it down on the floor beside him. He grips the side of the chair like his life depends on it as she begins to move. She puts her hands on his shoulders and uses him for balance. She moves up and down and around. Her rhythm in sync with the music that Steve hears but is hardly aware of.

As she moves she never quite touches him where he yearns for her the most. She’s quite possibly the most beautiful and erotic sight Steve has ever seen or come this close to for that matter. His pants feel incredibly tight and he’s increasingly concerned that he’ll embarrass himself worse than when he was thirteen in Mrs. Fowler’s art class.

The music stops and the show is over too soon in Steve’s opinion. He just stares at the woman, entranced. She seats herself on his legs now that the dance is done. She reaches into her cleavage and fishes out two items as Steve struggles to recall why exactly they came to this little room and a private show.

Steve stares dumbfounded as she slips one of her items in his breast pocket. “Something for later” she whispers. 

The other item is apparently a tube of lipstick which she applies immediately though her red lips still look perfect to Steve. She puts her lipstick back where it came from and gently tilts Steve’s head up with a hand to his chin again. “Sweet dream darling.” She says as she kisses him.

Steve slumps backwards in the chair as the world goes black.

Steve comes to in the chair. He immediately covers the pocket on the left side of his chest and feels the small object within. He isn’t sure if there’s cameras in the small room but he doesn’t want to take any chances. He picks up his beer and tosses it in a bin as he tries to casually make his way out of the building.  
He reaches the unmarked car where Nat’s waiting and let’s himself in on the passenger side. “What happened to your earpiece? You’ve been silent for over an hour. Did you meet the contact?” Nat asks caustically.

Steve reaches in his breast pocket and pulls out the contents. He finds a zip drive and his earpiece in his hand. The zip drive is from the contact but he isn’t sure how she knew about the earpiece. It’s the latest Stark tech, supposedly untraceable. Obviously not.

“There’s lipstick on your mouth,” Nat points out helpfully “You buying lapdances on government dime?”

“What? NO!” Steve exclaims. He isn’t sure how she could possibly know anything if his earpiece went dead an hour ago. At least he wasn’t wearing a camera either. He’d never live it down. “She gave me this. The contact.” He says as he shows Nat the zip drive.

“Did she appreciate the beer on your shirt and pants? I hope you tipped her well.” Nat needles him again.

“Look can we just call it a night? I made contact. We can log this in evidence and maybe make heads or tails of what this is all about in the morning.” Steve says as he slips the zip drive back in his pocket.

“Sure thing, Boss.” Nat remarks.

Steve just looks out the window. Nat always has to have the last word. Maybe undercover work isn’t all that bad. Maybe he’ll need to make contact again. He hopes.

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea for a long time but I'm not really sure if it will ever grow into a larger story so I just wanted to share... because who doesn't want to read about Peggy giving Steve a lap dance?


End file.
